


one-way trigger

by sundermount



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, oversensitivity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25670059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundermount/pseuds/sundermount
Summary: It's unfortunate that Felix's hole is as sensitive as it is, but that's not something that can't be solved with a bit of practice.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 24
Kudos: 137





	one-way trigger

**Author's Note:**

> filled for [this prompt](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?style=site&thread=2339400) on the kinkmeme:
> 
> "dimitri is such a good boy he spends upward of an hour using only two (2) fingers to tenderly spread felix's hole open until he is aching and sobbing for dimitri's dick but ends up coming untouched and unfucked despite himself and gets really stupid mad about it. felix's hole is just too sensitive. felix's hole is just too slutty. help him??? (or don't, actually.)
> 
> please, this: felix desperately wants to come while stuffed full of dimitri's dick but never makes it past being lightly fingered."
> 
> unbetaed and unedited, all mistakes you see are my own.

“I can take it.”

“I, ah. Not to discredit your talents, my dearest Felix, but I really don’t think—”

“If I learned faith magic for you, I can do this.”

“I do not think your will would be enough to see you through this—”

“ _Dimitri_. Let me sit on your cock.”

“No, Felix. I would rather you not.” Dimitri's hands leave Felix’s rear and thigh to cup his face. “As much as I would love for us to be joined in the most intimate of places—” He blushes at this, and Felix feels fondness well up in him and is immediately horrified, “I do not wish for us to engage in a full consummation of our relationship until I can be at ease that you can be entered without much effort or pain.”

Felix’s ears are hot, and he finds himself incapable of forming words in that moment.

Dimitri presses their bodies closer together, the heat of his stupidly broad... broadness scorching against Felix’s through all of that soft skin. “Allow me to do this. If not for you, then for my own peace of mind.”

His face is beseeching and guileless, like a puppy’s. Felix cannot find it in him to say no.

“I can get it in without hurting myself, if you’d just let me try.” Felix does not sulk.

“Ah, but.” Dimitri gestures to his cock, huge and glorious and twitching and leaking between them and woefully branded as off-limits for Felix to sit on. “As you can see, from my size—I do feel it would be more of a challenge than anticipated. I do not wish to hurt you, not even accidentally.” 

He turns a sad eye on Felix, like a dog imploring its master to take pity on it, to give it one more scrap of meat.

Felix does not like dogs. Felix likes cats. Cats have claws, and are independent warriors and impeccable hunters.

So it makes sense that he would be as he is now, face buried in his elbow as his fingers circle tight around the base of his leaking cock, twitching and ready to burst and already dribbling with pre-spend.

He breathes in deep, clenches the muscles of his stomach again to try to stave off the urge to come. They hurt, and Dimitri hasn’t even gotten his fingers in yet. He can do this. He is a _warrior_.

Dimitri finally stops teasing around the pucker of his hole with his fingers—his long, fine-boned fingers with stupid perfect square nails that taste like salt and weapon oil and the tip of which has now entered him, oh fuckfuck _fuck_ —

Felix’s hips jackknife off the bed as his back arches and he explodes all over himself, come in his face and hair and landing in the cracks on the headboard.

“Oh, dear,” Dimitri says.

  


Felix does not have a problem. His body—just refuses to behave and to stop being so goddamn sensitive for Dimitri.

It’s a small setback. They’ll just have to practice harder. Just as he mastered the blade by studying it diligently, he will be a master of not peaking as soon as Dimitri’s finger is in him. And of receiving Dimitri’s cock, soon enough.

He’s in the royal chambers again that night, on his back with Dimitri between his legs. Over the past two weeks and many, many _accidents_ , they’ve been slowly working towards a way for Dimitri to get a finger in Felix without him immediately spending.

It’s not entirely his fault; it would be the same for anyone, he thinks, if they had Dimitri’s hands anywhere near them. God knows how Felix himself would get work done on a daily basis if Dimitri’s hands remained uncovered.

It was easier during the war, with his clawed gauntlets distorting and hiding the shape of his hands.

The gloves he wears now aren’t almost as effective, but they’re better than leaving his strong, beautiful, distracting hands bare. Scarred from the war and calloused with weapon use. Steady as they twist the cork top off a vial of oil; used to coat a finger which then traces Felix’s entrance.

 _So sensitive_ , he’d whispered rapturously, the second time they’d tried this. _Oh, Felix, you’re responding so beautifully for me, thank you for trusting me with your body_.

Felix had been too busy coming and passing out to yell at him for being sappy.

His body jerks and Dimitri presses firmly down on his sternum. “Try staying still for me, Felix.”

“I have not been doing anything but _trying_ ,” Felix wants to grumble, but it comes out closer to a whine than he’d expected. Dimitri offers him a heart-rending smile at that, before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Breathe, my love.”

Dimitri’s finger dips in; Felix jerks again and glares at Dimitri. He breathes in deep and exhales, fighting to not clench down. The finger pushes in further and he lets out a high noise that he _will not_ call a squeak, but it’s close enough.

Felix’s legs are trembling on either side of Dimitri as he fights to stay still, his hands clenched tight in the sheets. His sack has drawn up close to his body, and his cock is so hard it’s tight against the muscles of his stomach, twitching and bumping against it. A small puddle of clear fluid is forming on his stomach, dripping in a steady stream from the tip of his cock.

It’s barely been a beat since Dimitri’s gotten his finger all the way in and he’s already on the verge of blowing, but it’s progress.

Dimitri’s other hand rubs gently at Felix’s flank, which shifts his finger in him. It rubs up against _something_ that makes Felix do a full-body twitch before he comes untouched, hips lifting off the bed and fucking up into into the air twice before collapsing back down.

He turns to groan into the pillow under his head, muffling a soft scream as Dimitri withdraws his finger, chuckling.

“Again. More.”

Dimitri presses a kiss to his neck. “No,” he admonishes. “You know how overwhelmed you can get. We’ll rest for a bit, first.”

Felix is thankful he’s progressed beyond catatonia upon orgasm, but receiving anything after he comes is still incomprehensible thanks to that goddess-damned sensitivity. But that’s the entire point of _practising_. If he doesn’t learn to push through it, he’ll never win.

“No. Again. We’re doing this so I can be prepared for you, aren’t we? It’s just something I have to get over. We have to practice.”

Dimitri’s smile is indulgent. “If you wish. But I will go slower, for your sake.”

He kisses Felix’s eyelids and the sharp jut of his cheekbone, and turns him over so he’s lying on his front.

  


Felix is sat on Dimitri’s thighs, sucking on two of Dimitri’s fingers as Dimitri presses his other hand against his own cock, still clothed and threatening to break the laces of his breeches. His gaze flits between Felix fellating his fingers and Felix’s cock in his smallclothes; so wet already, the dark, purpling head visible through the fabric.

Felix’s lips still feel swollen from the kisses Dimitri had given him; he sucks harder on his fingers, tongue forcing its way between the folds of skin between them, getting them absolutely wet with saliva.

Dimitri reaches for the fresh bottle of oil—they’ve been going through so many, lately—and upends it all over Felix’s lower half, completely soaking him.

“Goddess, Felix,” he moans, hand leaving his own cock to spread the oil _absolutely_ everywhere.

His hand passes over Felix’s cock and Felix arches so hard he almost falls back against the bed, if not for his hands propping him up. Dimitri all but rips his ruined smallclothes away from his body as he pulls his fingers from Felix’s mouth, tucking them between Felix’s cheeks and pressing against his entrance.

“Fuck, put them in me, Dimitri, please,” Felix sobs, trying to catch the tips of Dimitri’s fingers against his entrance while rutting against his ridiculous, perfectly toned stomach.

“As you wish,” Dimitri says, voice hoarse, doing as Felix had begged. Felix’s cock immediately jerks, releasing a line of pre-spend, clear and shiny. His cock is so wet from the oil and how aroused he’s been, even more so now Dimitri’s fingers in him.

He can’t see—his forehead is pouring with so much sweat, he can barely keep his eyes open.

“I want you so badly, Dimitri, please. Boar, I’m begging you. _Please_.”

Dimitri lays him on his back, lying on his front between Felix’s legs as his fingers fuck up hard into him. Dimitri grips hard at his thigh, and he can feel the roll of Dimitri’s body as he fucks his hips into the bed. It’s the least controlled he’s been since they started this, and Felix _wants_ so badly.

He wants it to be himself that Dimitri fucks, not a dip in the mattress. Not his own fist, nor Felix’s, nor Felix’s mouth.

But that’s all that Dimitri gives him: the two fingers they’ve managed to work up to without Felix immediately spending, thrusting into his hole as hard as he dares, the slick sound loud in his chambers.

Dimitri’s free hand seeks Felix’s out, intertwining their fingers and squeezing. 

Felix cries out as he imagines the press of Dimitri’s cock in him; thick and throbbing and swelling with his imminent release, pre-spend copious and leaking and adding to the mess of oil already staining the sheets.

  


The letter from Ferdinand arrives with a vaguely-worded plea for help in Adrestia, whoever the King could spare, to smooth over issues a few minor lords had stirred up.

Dimitri writes back at once to inform him that he could spare Felix, and that he would set out in a day’s time.

“It’s such a shame you’ll be away for an entire month. I do think you were almost ready for three fingers,” he says that night, his fingers buried in Felix.

Felix’s expression is incredulous. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you.”

Dimitri ignores him and presses his fingers gently against the swell of his stupid sensitive gland, and Felix crumples forward into him and spends all over his broad chest and thick thighs and the stupid beautiful cock that is _mocking_ him.

“Maybe I was wrong. You still respond to my touch and the press of my fingers as keenly as you first did.”

“Fuck you,” he gasps in his afterglow, kicking Dimitri onto his back. “I’m better, now. I can take two fingers without immediately spending. I’m going to _win_.”

He straddles Dimitri and brings him off with his hand, slick with the seed he’d gathered off their skin. Dimitri on the edge of his own release is a sight: blond hair haloed around his head, sweat shining on his forehead and neck, making little _unh-unh-unh_ noises. He thinks: _I did this_.

“I’m close,” Dimitri rasps, clutching Felix’s hands on him, urging him on faster. Felix, in a fit of inspiration, moves up his body and presses the loosened pucker of his entrance to the tip of Dimitri’s cock. 

The feeling of it—fat, spongy, leaking and throbbing and so hot against his oversensitive hole—is like a jolt of lightning up his spine. He screams and blacks out, falling flat onto Dimitri.

Felix fumes in his second afterglow, frustration tempered by his own exhaustion and inability to move.

“Don’t say a word.”

Dimitri keeps mum, but the shake of his chest beneath Felix’s cheek is telling.

“I’ll continue practising while I’m away. I’ll fucking show you. Your cock will finally be mine, when I’m back.”

Dimitri hauls him further up his body to press a kiss to the crown of his head. “What do you mean by that? It was always yours.”

  


He does try, when he is away from Fhirdiad. The first orgasm he has with his own fingers in him and without Dimitri’s aid is so lacklustre, he elects to not even try at all.

The first touch to his hole arouses him enough, and it gets him half of the way there, but—his fingers never seem to be long enough, or thick enough. His wrist hurts from the angle he has to bend it at and oil gets everywhere, despite his best efforts.

And to top things off, there’s no Dimitri. No boar to manhandle him, put his fingers in him, kiss him and tell him he’s doing well. No-one to tell him he loves him and to hug him, afterwards.

The letters he receives from Dimitri are surprisingly free of the weak, wretched, smutty longing he’d dreaded. Instead, he gets news of their friends; updates on his aiding Ingrid’s ongoing campaign to defy her father’s wishes and be knighted, stories about the foal Dimitri’s favourite mare had birthed and Sylvain’s pitiable attempts to propose to Dorothea—3 failed and counting, at the present.

Dimitri’s t’s look like f’s and his scrawl is absolutely abysmal in his most spirited passages, although he does apologise for it in his postscript. He ends each letter with an _Always and forevermore yours, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd_.

Felix misses him terribly.

  


Dimitri’s waiting for him (along with a small gaggle of indiscreet onlookers) as he rides in. His face lights up when he’s able to make Felix out beyond a speck in the distance, and Felix can feel the beam of it from where he currently is.

“Felix,” Dimitri breathes, as soon as Felix is within earshot. His tone is reverential, and Felix’s heart swells. He would duck his head, but it’s of no use when he’s at the height he is, so Dimitri gets the full force of his smile. Dimitri’s own grows wider at that, if it were even possible.

Goddess. He loves this man so much.

He slows his horse to a stop and Dimitri comes charging towards him, sweeping him into his arms as he’s barely off the saddle. It’s so sudden it takes Felix off-guard enough that he automatically wraps his legs around Dimitri’s waist to steady himself.

“Felix, my love, you’re finally back.” Dimitri’s hands sneak under his cloak and around his back, pulling Felix close to him. He buries his nose in the side of Felix’s head, inhaling deep before pressing a long, hard kiss to it.

Felix grunts and smacks at his chest. His hand squeezes—a quick, discreet grope. Damn propriety, he hasn’t seen Dimitri in a month. “Let me down, you beast.”

Dimitri’s right hand runs down his spine, eliciting a shiver. His pointer and middle fingers take advantage of the cover of Felix’s cloak to reach down and press firm against where they haven’t been for the past month. The automatic jerk of his hips is restrained by Dimitri’s other big, stupid, well-muscled arm still around his torso. 

He reaches for and twists Dimitri’s nipple through his shirt. Dimitri yelps and almost drops him. 

“Let me down!”

Dimitri laughs while he honest-to-Goddess fucks his fingers further up against Felix’s entrance, over his breeches. “If my beloved insists.”

  


Felix is freshly bathed and surrounded by warm furs, dark hair spilling on his pillow and around him while Dimitri lies between his legs, having forsaken dinner to have his fill of Felix.

He sighs as Dimitri kneads at his thigh and threads his fingers in Dimitri’s hair, kissing him deep as Dimitri rubs at his entrance with an oiled thumb. He arches into it and his cock immediately plumps.

Dimitri dips his thumb in and Felix groans, loud and satisfied. _Sothis_ , he’s fucking missed this.

“How is it that you’ve gotten tighter, my Felix?” Dimitri frowns as he looks up at Felix worriedly. “Have you not been practising daily, as you said?”

Felix flings an arm over his eyes. “Didn’t.”

“Why not?” He pushes his index finger in and Felix cries out, clenching around it and trying to fuck down, only for Dimitri to restrain him with a hand on his belly. “Were you overworked? I know you are more than capable of putting your foot down, but perhaps a strongly worded letter from me would—”

“Ugh,” Felix interrupts him. “It—it doesn’t feel as good without you, okay?” He raises his arm to glare at Dimitri and immediately regrets it.

Dimitri looks like he’s on the verge of tears, as he was when Felix had responded to his heartfelt confession with an affirmation of his own feelings. “Oh, _Felix_.” His voice wibbles.

He kicks the back of Dimitri’s thigh with his foot. “Whatever. Get on with it, boar.”

Dimitri slides his finger out carefully and cups Felix’s face in his hands, taking care to not smear oil onto his freshly-washed face.

“I’m afraid I cannot do what I had planned,” he says gravely. “I had wished to tease, but right now I find I need to be close to you instead.”

His mouth descends on Felix, kissing him as if he intended to make up for that entire month without. He presses a kiss to Felix’s brow and the tip of his nose, then his neck and collarbone, travelling down.

“Felix, my love. I love you, I love you so much,” Dimitri moans as he sucks a nipple into his mouth. Felix’s body twitches off the bed and Dimitri pins him down so he can continue uninterrupted.

Felix focuses on the soft gold of Dimitri’s lashes, to keep his mind off how turned on he’s getting. He traces the scar of Dimitri’s eye with his thumb and cups the side of his face. 

Dimitri turns his head to press a kiss to Felix’s palm before travelling further down, mouthing the jut of Felix’s hip as his hand moves between his legs to rub firm circles into the spot he’s obsessed with; the firm, soft swollen skin before his entrance.

“Inside me now,” Felix grunts, “or I’ll spill before you can even get your fingers oiled.”

“Tell me you love me, Felix, please.” Dimitri’s pupils are blown, his hips grinding small circles into the bed before he groans and lifts them up. “Please.” His voice is lust and love-drunk.

“Fine, I—I love you, now come _on_ —”

Dimitri rises, flips him on his front and raises his hips up, directing Felix to clamp his thighs together. “I do wish you weren’t so sensitive,” he moans, tortured. “I wish so badly to be in you. Joined with you. To be able to make love to you.”

Dimitri oils Felix’s thighs, guiding his own cock between them as he thrusts two fingers into him. Felix immediately clamps down on them and wails into the pillow.

“Fuck, c’mon, fuck me, Dimitri.” He’s so out of it, drool running down his chin, hole fluttering around Dimitri’s fingers.

Felix is so overwhelmed and oversensitised, the past month with barely even the touch of his own hand intensifying _everything_. One hand grips tight around the base of his cock and the other pulls his sack down, a desperate attempt to stave off his own orgasm.

Dimitri’s got two fingers in him, but he still feels so fucking empty. “I don’t care, please fuck me. Just fuck me, Dimitri, please, I’m so empty, please fill me up, _please_.”

“I can’t, Felix. I can’t,” he sobs. “I’m sorry.”

He then removes his fingers and thrusts _three_ into Felix.

Felix feels so full, fuller than he’s ever been, and the pressure’s too much for him—he can’t take it—

He screams as his orgasm crests, come soaking and absolutely ruining the furs below him.

Dimitri cries out, and Felix can feel the heat of his cock, searing as it throbs between the come and oil-slicked space between his thighs.

  


“By the end of the year.”

“Wha—Felix? Could you. Um. Do you mind elaborating on that?”

“I’ll have your cock in me, by the end of the year. Just you wait. We’re going to practise so hard. And no more months apart.”

“If you insist, dear heart. Sleep well.”

  


Bonus scene:

“You have been utilising a rather large quantity of oil lately,” Dedue remarks, as he ladles Dimitri’s supper into a bowl.

Dimitri chokes on his own spit, and coughs for a duration after that. Dedue looks regretful.

“If agreeing to your request for me to partake in more casual conversations is putting you at risk of accidental self-harm, I do not think it a convincing argument for me to continue to do so.”

“Ah— _cough_ —It was not your being casual— _cough, cough_.”

“Ah. So, my insinuation about your sexual relations with Felix?”

Dimitri’s face is bright red, and he’s thankful for the excuse to lower his head to cough a few more times.

“It would be helpful if you endeavoured to put a rag down. The washing lady has been complaining to everyone she speaks to about the difficulty of getting oil out of heavy sheets.”

“Duly noted, Dedue.”

**Author's Note:**

> felix hugo fraladrius @ sex is the butterfly man meme going: is this a COMPETITION?
> 
> i started this bc i wanted to write something a little less heavy and different in tone from my other WIPs, and it accidentally grew feelings.


End file.
